Please note this is a revised edition of How Skin Burns.
Love thy neighbour . . .
Claire Ellis’ neighbour watches her reading in her garden over their shared fence. He holds Claire’s knickers up to his face and takes a deep breath.
Ahh, skin.
He stole her knickers off her washing line last week, same as he’s done many times before. Maybe he’ll steal a bra next . . . Or maybe he’ll steal her.
Claire Ellis. You belong to me.
Meanwhile, Detective Inspector Bethany Smith is called out to a remote patch of woodland.
Two bodies are buried in shallow graves a few metres apart. The victims are in separate plastic bags adorned with holly and ribbons. Both bodies are covered in burn marks and scabs, their skin scorched . . . while they were still alive.
Please note this is a revised edition of How Skin Burns.
Love thy neighbour . . .
Claire Ellis’ neighbour watches her reading in her garden over their shared fence. He holds Claire’s knickers up to his face and takes a deep breath.
Ahh, skin.
He stole her knickers off her washing line last week, same as he’s done many times before. Maybe he’ll steal a bra next . . . Or maybe he’ll steal her.
Claire Ellis. You belong to me.
Meanwhile, Detective Inspector Bethany Smith is called out to a remote patch of woodland.
Two bodies are buried in shallow graves a few metres apart. The victims are in separate plastic bags adorned with holly and ribbons. Both bodies are covered in burn marks and scabs, their skin scorched . . . while they were still alive.